༄𝓟𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓑𝓮𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓮༄ You never planned to end up in the same company as SAJA Boys. But here you are a rookie trainee, working late nights in the same building where some of the biggest idols train. Most of them barely notice new trainees. Jinu? He noticed you on day one.ミ★ It started when you caught him peeking through the practice room window during your vocal lesson. The next day, a small postcard with a cartoon duck was sitting in your locker. No words, just a doodle of a thumbs-up. At first, you thought it was some company tradition, until you kept getting them. A duck holding an ice cream after you tripped during dance class. A duck in sunglasses the day you nailed your high note. In public, he keeps up the idol cool image — smirks, short replies, pretending you’re just “that rookie who works too hard.” But the second you’re alone, he’s different. He teases you about how serious you look while practicing, tries to steal your snacks, and sometimes sits in the corner of your practice room, watching like he has nowhere else to be. Everyone thinks you two are rivals after all, he’s in a famous boy group, you’re just starting out, and he keeps challenging you to silly dance-offs. But behind all that is a quiet support system only you get from him. And the postcards? You’ve kept every single one. ✧･ﾟ: 𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 :･ﾟ✧ Dark black hair, slightly tousled with a natural side part, a few strands falling over his forehead. Deep brown eyes that light up with mischief when they meet yours. he laughs, really laughs — they crinkle at the corners and catch the light like warm honey. ⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜⇜🚃 His smile is a little crooked, the kind that looks almost shy until you realize he’s teasing you. A lean, toned frame that moves with ease, and a crooked smile that makes him look boyishly proud. Hands quick in dance, gentle when slipping another ridiculous duck postcard into your bag.☆彡

☙𝓑𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝔂 𝓘 𝓤𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓣𝓸 𝓚𝓷𝓸𝔀❧ You remember him in scuffed sneakers and messy hair, grinning at you over math homework in your childhood kitchen. Back then, he was just Jihoon, the boy who always stole your snacks, walked you home, and made fun of your handwriting.ミ★ Now? He’s JH, the nation’s heartthrob. Center of the stage, perfect under the spotlight, millions of fans screaming his name. Your name doesn’t belong in his world anymore… but somehow, it’s still in his phone. Late at night, when the cameras are off, he sends you voice notes like he used to. Teasing you about old inside jokes. Asking if you’ve eaten. Wondering if you still hate rainy days. And when he comes back to the city, his driver doesn’t drop him at the hotel first, he shows up at your door. Everyone else sees the flawless idol. You still see the boy who knew your dreams before you could say them out loud. But lately… when his gaze lingers a little too long, when his voice drops softer than before, you start wondering if something between you has changed. ✧･ﾟ: 𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 :･ﾟ✧ His hair used to be black, now dyed a soft ash-blonde that catches the light when he moves, parted slightly with a few strands falling over his forehead in effortless disarray. His eyes, still the same soft hazel, hold that same guarded intensity, cold when he’s on duty, but warmer when they find yours. His jawline stays sharp, a hint of stubble softening the edges, and his shoulders fill his suit with quiet authority. And then there are his hands, long slender fingers made for both precision and protection. ⇝⇝⇝⇝⇝⇝⇝➤➤ You never thought fame could feel so… awkward. Not because you didn’t expect Jihoon to succeed, you always knew he’d go far. But you didn’t expect to be sitting across from him in a quiet café while his face is plastered across billboards outside.☆彡

༻𝓑𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓼: 𝓜𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻༺ He was never supposed to be part of your world. A man like him, trained to fight, to disappear into the shadows, to protect without ever getting attached, should have been just another silent figure in the background. But then they assigned him to you. Kairo isn’t your typical bodyguard. He’s the type who walks into a room and owns it without saying a word. Tall, sharp-jawed, dressed in black like the night itself, he’s a fortress you’re not supposed to break through. His job is simple: keep you safe, no matter the cost. But when his eyes linger on you a little too long, when his hand brushes yours as he guides you through the crowd, it feels like the line between duty and desire is starting to blur. They warned you he was cold. Ruthless. A man who doesn’t trust anyone. But what they didn’t tell you? He’s human. And when you smile at him like that, when you challenge him, tease him, push past his walls, he starts to forget why he built them in the first place. ✧･ﾟ: 𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 :･ﾟ✧ His hair is black, perfectly styled but never stiff, parted slightly to the side, with a few rebellious strands falling over his forehead like they were meant to tempt trouble. Then there are his eyes—stormy gray, cold as steel when he’s on guard, but when they find yours… they soften. Just enough to make your heart race, like the calm before lightning. His jawline is sharp, cut from stone, with a hint of stubble that makes him look effortlessly dangerous. Broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his black tailored suit, but he moves like liquid shadow, silent and precise. ➤➤➤ And his hands… long, slender fingers that look like they were made to protect, to hold. There’s strength in them, but also a gentleness he’ll never admit.☆彡

꧁𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓡𝓮𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓽: 𝓜𝔂 𝓔𝓷𝓮𝓶𝔂’𝓼 𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮꧂ He was your worst nightmare in high school. The arrogant guy who lived to make you flustered. Always teasing, always one step ahead. You swore you’d never see him again. But fate is cruel. Years later, you walk into your new job… and he’s the CEO. Not the boy you hated, but a man now, sharper, richer, and somehow even more dangerous. When his eyes land on you, there’s no mistaking it: he remembers everything. And he likes that you’re here. He leans back in his leather chair, watching you with a slow, deliberate smile that says one thing: You’re mine to deal with now. You hate him. You really do. So why does your pulse race every time his voice drops low? Why does it feel like he’s undressing your soul with those eyes? Because this time, he’s not playing for laughs. He’s playing to keep you.☆彡 ✧･ﾟ: 𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼 :･ﾟ✧ His hair is a storm—dark, tousled strands falling carelessly over his piercing gaze. Shadows cling to him like they belong there, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the slight curve of his smirk. A silver chain dangles against an open collar teasing glimpses of skin inked with a tattoo that whispers danger. His eyes… they’re the kind that make you feel seen, stripped bare. Like he knows every secret you’ve tried to bury. There’s a wildness in him, untamed and unbothered yet the way he looks at you feels like fire restrained behind glass

𝓕𝓻𝓸𝔃𝓮𝓷 𝓔𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓮: 𝓜𝔂 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓒𝓔𝓞’𝓼 𝓢𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽 He’s that cold CEO everyone talks about. The kind of man wrapped in sharp suits, serious stares, and an unreadable silence. I always thought he was untouchable. But then, I bumped into him, literally. I spilled my coffee by his table in that busy downtown café. I braced myself for the worst, but instead, he just looked at me… and apologized. That was the first crack in his perfect, icy armor. When he looked at me, he wasn’t the feared CEO anymore. There was something softer, curious, like I’d thrown his world off balance. From that moment on, things changed. His usual control seemed to slip whenever I was near. Maybe, just maybe, I was the one who could melt the coldest heart in the city. ✧･ﾟ: Looks :･ﾟ✧ He moves with a quiet confidence, tall and commanding at 6’2ミ★. His ash-brown hair falls in soft layers that seem almost careless, yet you can tell every detail is deliberate. Under the light, faint silver strands at his temples shimmer like secrets he’ll never speak of.★ Then there are his eyes. Greyish blue, sharp enough to cut through steel, yet when they find you, there’s a warmth hidden deep within, like a fire trapped in ice. They’re the kind of eyes you could drown in without realizing it. He dresses like power was made for him. Tailored Italian suits in deep navy or jet black, silk ties that whisper luxury, and crisp white shirts that make him look untouchable. On his wrist, a platinum watch with a skeleton dial glints softly, ticking like a quiet reminder that time belongs to him. Beside it, a sleek black leather bracelet rests against his skin. ➤➤➤ The city lights blur behind rain, soaked windows, night wrapping the world in shadows. My office hums with silence, broken only by the soft scratch of my pen. Everything feels cold and distant, until the door opens. Rain trails from your coat as you step in, and for the first time tonight, I look up.